


Out of Order

by twoseas



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Jim has a freak out, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Pining James T. Kirk, Pon Farr, Sexual Content, Spock has a calmer freak out, T'hy'la, Vulcan Mind Melds, but with an AOS twist, call me JJ Abrams, cuz I'm playing real fast and loose with Star Trek, rolling around in the sand for ritual combat is the best foreplay, things work out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 02:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18160418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise was having a challenging day. This was a bit of an understatement considering he was fighting his first officer/best friend/unrequited-love-of-his-life to the death in a Vulcan ceremony of ritual combat.Featuring a fight to the death that takes a turn for the sexy, a pining and panicking Jim, Spock believing himself to be the worst being in existence due to the problematic elements of pon farr and mind melds, and an eventual happy ending for all involved.





	Out of Order

**Author's Note:**

> I really had fun writing a TOS situation for AOS Jim and Spock when I wrote "The Weight of This Sad Time" last year, so I decided to give it another try with Amok Time. Jim Kirk being tits out while rolling around with Spock is truly inspiring. 
> 
> Also, I kind of adore writing AOS Jim because he's basically made of extremes and that's relatable AF, boi.

Fighting Spock was an absolute nightmare. 

Jim used his  _ lirpa  _ to block one of Spock’s strikes, the blow so powerful that the vibrations seemed to resonate through his forearms. As someone who had personal experience with Spock’s physical strength, both from being choked out in the early days of their relationship and from the occasional friendly sparring match, Jim knew his chances were slim. 

As Jim moved back just in time to avoid having his torso bisected, he heard Bones trying to convince T’Pau of something. Too concerned with dodging Spock’s blows to listen closer, Jim hopped and slid and tumbled all over the place. Spock was strong, fast, and an expert at Vulcan martial arts, so Jim needed to focus. He really didn’t want his first officer decapitating him in front of his chief medical officer. It didn’t help that they were both his best friends. 

Only when Spock slowed down to reassess the situation did Jim catch a break and get some breathing room.

Staring down at the large slash in his uniform, Jim sent out a silent prayer for another lost shirt. He could very well be dying tits out. Dignified. 

Jim’s lament was cut short as Spock charged, Jim’s  _ lirpa  _ sent flying from the hit. Rather than press his advantage and either bludgeon Jim or cut him to ribbons, Spock tossed his own  _ lirpa  _ aside, predatory gaze locked onto Jim and chest heaving with unconcealed rage. 

Jim would’ve found it insanely sexy if it wasn’t all so obviously directed at him. 

Ok, so he still found it insanely sexy. But there was a healthy dose of fear mixed in.

When T’Pau’s authoritative voice rang out, the bells chiming in a joyful noise that didn’t belong in a place where Spock was meant to fight him to the death, they both stopped. The dry air burned in Jim’s lungs. Spock stood tall and dominant on the other side of the ceremonial circle, his green flushed face etched in a savage look of pure focused violence. 

When an  _ ahn’woon _ was tossed to Spock and him each, Jim sucked in another rattling breath and braced himself. He was, however, a little proud of how well he could identify Vulcan weapons. He had taken an interest and learned what he could about his first officer’s culture. He could be proud of that. Even when said first officer was getting ready to murder him ritually thanks to said culture. 

The end of Spock’s  _ ahn’woon _ wrapped around Jim’s ankles, giving him a split second to consider how much he wasn’t going to enjoy what followed. 

Falling back on the hot New Vulcan earth hard enough to feel the impact in every inch of his body, Jim grimaced in pain and kicked out, barely saving himself from being pounced on. He flipped to his feet, unsteady and coltish, but still not ready to call it in. He needed to give Spock a good fight. An honorable one. Hopefully one that burned off the fuck-or-die energy that had sapped away so much of Spock’s well beloved logic. Best case scenario: Jim pulled it together and knocked Spock the fuck out so they could be done with this whole sordid business. If he couldn’t manage that, Jim hoped he could at least make them both look good. Stressful as the situation was, Jim had his pride and he would hate to die in front of Vulcan royalty (and Spock’s grandmother) while looking incompetent. 

Running around the central gong that started it all, Jim blocked one punch. Then two. His poor abused forearms screamed out in pain. 

The third strike had Jim falling to the ground again and before he knew it Spock was on top of him. They grappled until Spock got the upper hand and wrapped his  _ ahn’woon _ around Jim’s throat. 

Jim rolled atop Spock, straddling his first officer’s hips in an attempt to pin him down. If he could set Spock off balance and put some space between them, he had a chance at getting his own neck out from the improvised noose. But Spock’s strength won out.

Slammed to the ground, Jim gasped as Spock’s hands twisted the  _ ahn’woon _ tighter and tighter. Kicking uselessly at the back of Spock’s thigh with his heel, Jim struggled to inhale. He sincerely hoped that Bones could come up with a way to get him out of there before he well and truly died. Spock snapping the hell out of it would also be perfectly welcome. If it didn’t work out...well, Jim hoped Bones and Spock wouldn’t blame themselves for his death.

Black encroached on the edges of Jim’s vision, white dots bursting and coalescing in front of his eyes as it got harder and harder to breathe. Jim’s hands came up, scrabbling and prying against Spock’s in an instinctive search for release. 

Spock had all his focus on Jim, eyes boring into his. They were glazed from the effects of  _ pon farr _ , pupils blown large enough to deepen Spock’s already dark eyes into near blackness. Paired with the green flushed face, it was a sight Jim never believed he’d see. In a thought that proved Jim was very, very biased in Spock’s favor as well as very, very messed up in his own head, Jim considered how beautiful Spock was, even in a situation like this.

Spock shifted his position 

_ Hell _ , Jim realized. He could actually feel the hard line of Spock’s  _ pon farr _ induced arousal, rigid and insistent against Jim’s hip. 

In better circumstances, Jim thought blearily, he would be pretty damn ecstatic with these turn of events - his legs wrapped around Spock’s waist, Spock bearing down on him. In any other context, this could have been Jim’s dream come true. But because Jim was just that unlucky, he got to have the to-the-death part of  _ pon farr _ . He couldn’t get the fun non-stop-ritualistic-sex part. 

As the black took up most of his vision and nearly obscured the sight of Spock, Jim supposed there were worst things he could do than die for love. 

He loved Spock. He loved everything about his half-human, half-Vulcan first officer. Afterall, he wouldn’t let just anyone strangle him while pressing a murder boner to his hip. 

He wondered if Spock knew Jim didn’t blame him. 

The constricting pressure around Jim’s neck loosened. 

Gasping in as much air as he could, Jim arched off the ground as his chest heaved. Spock was still there, still above him and keeping him pinned to the dirt, but the intense stare was no longer paired with the enraged snarl. 

“Sp-ock?” Jim coughed, bemused by the sudden change. He blinked away the white spots as his gulping breaths evened out into a shaky panting.

Without any explanation, Spock reached out and grabbed Jim by both sides of his face. 

At the edge of the ceremonial circle, whispers broke out. 

Spock’s fingers, so hot against Jim’s already exertion heated cheeks, spread out into a semi-recognizable formation. 

T’Pau’s shout had Spock barking something in Vulcan, his gaze never leaving Jim’s face. 

More whispers and Bones demanding answers. 

Spock murmured something and Jim was plunged into an ocean of emotion. At first the thoughts and feelings filled his mind too much, too fast, and too strong. Then he embraced the overwhelming stimulation, the intrusion not so much an intrusion as it was a very much welcome surprise. 

The sensation drowned out everything that wasn’t him and Spock. 

When the mind meld eased away, Jim was breathing heavily and more turned on than he could ever remember being in his life. Everything was heat and need. A feeling of wanting, of longing, of sacrifice. All the strongest emotions he ever felt towards Spock, the things he kept closest to his chest and as hidden away as possible, were drawn to the surface where they overtook all other thought. 

He wasn’t tired. 

He wasn’t in pain. 

He wasn’t scared. 

He was so unbelievably enamored with Spock. 

Spock stared at Jim hungrily for a beat longer. But when Jim licked his lips, mouth dry and body itching with desire, Spock seemed to snap.

He crushed their mouths together in a kiss so violent and filthy that Jim could only moan desperately as he tried to give back as good as he got. Spock’s lips were firm and insistent and his tongue slipped into Jim’s mouth without so much as a ‘by your leave’ and Jim was utterly and completely fine with that. Jim curled his own tongue against Spock’s, allowing the tip to drag teasingly along Spock’s palate. 

Spock pulled away and Jim nipped at his bottom lip in retaliation, but Spock maintained enough distance to unravel the  _ ahn’woon _ from around Jim’s neck. The weapon was thrown to the side with a hateful look and then hot, long fingered hands caressed the already bruising lines around Jim’s throat. Jim opened his mouth to say something, to offer unasked for forgiveness or maybe dismiss it as unimportant, but the words became a choked off groan as Spock leaned in to kiss and tongue at the sensitive skin of Jim’s injured neck. 

Legs spreading wider to allow for more contact, Jim couldn’t think beyond getting more of Spock in every way and any way. 

Spock’s hands dragged down from Jim’s neck, to his shoulders, to his chest in a possessive, exploratory touch. Before Jim could beg for more, Spock’s hands were tightening in the fabric of his shirt and tearing impatiently, leaving Jim’s chest and stomach exposed. 

Not one to remain idle, Jim ran his own hands through Spock’s hair, the thick, silky soft strands passing through his fingers. Spock’s mouth trailed hot and hungry over Jim’s chest and Jim cried out as Spock delivered a sudden sharp bite to one nipple, then the other. Practically purring, Spock mouthed and sucked his way down to the waistband of Jim’s pants. 

Dark brown eyes met Jim’s own arousal clouded gaze and then Spock was ripping Jim’s regulation trousers, rending the fabric and fastenings asunder. Freed from the confines of his clothing, Jim’s cock was fully erect and wet at the tip. 

“Spock,” Jim pleaded. He wasn’t one for begging, but he was absolutely going to beg for Spock. “Spock, please.”

One hand pressing down on the jut of Jim’s hip, the other squeezing at one of Jim’s thighs, Spock opened his mouth and took Jim in.

“ _ Fuck _ me,” Jim bit out in a barely suppressed shout. 

Spock’s mouth was wet. And hot. And eager. It was sloppy, saliva pooling at the corners of Spock’s mouth, and it was tight, Spock sucking and swallowing as if his sole purpose in life was getting Jim off as soon and as hard as possible. Like in everything, Spock was beyond proficient. He was a master.

With a hand running through Spock’s hair and the other clawing at his shoulder, Jim warned, “Spock, Spock,  _ ah fuck _ , I’m going to-”

Spock bobbed and the head of Jim’s cock bumped the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat and then Jim was coming. 

“Spock!” 

Pleasure whited out Jim’s vision, his every muscle seized with the sizzling, electrifying sensation of completion. 

Moaning and needy, Jim pulled at Spock’s shirt, tugging him up by the collar. 

Spock moved back over him readily and he silenced Jim’s plaintive moans with a wet kiss that tasted like Jim’s own come. As he swallowed Jim’s whimpers down with as much eagerness and single minded determination as he had his dick, Spock pressed his body more firmly against Jim’s. 

A hard, large reminder that only one of them had gotten off was rubbed against Jim’s stomach. 

“Spock,” Jim whispered throatily as Spock continued to rut against him. “Spock, let me.”

Taking the initiative, Jim undid the fastenings of Spock’s trousers before palming Spock’s erection and easing it out of his pants. His cock was as hard as a diamond in a snowstorm and hotter than any of those sweltering summer days from Jim’s youth. 

Spock bucked forward, pushing into Jim’s hand with a growl. 

From what he could feel, fingers wrapping firmly around Spock, there were some anatomical differences, but not enough that Jim didn’t know what to do. As he twisted his wrist and stroked up and down with a tight, but gentle fist, Spock tucked his face into the side of Jim’s neck. He breathed heavily against Jim’s sweat slicked skin, his tongue and teeth tasting and biting in a series of nips that were as affectionate as they were territorial. 

“Give me your hand,” Jim asked, voice breaking. 

He could feel Spock tensing up, the hard planes of his body getting somehow even harder. Still stroking Spock up and down, Jim used his free hand to seek out Spock’s. Spock complied readily, one hand moving to press against Jim’s cheek, the other joining with Jim’s. 

Interlacing their fingers and giving Spock’s hand a firm squeeze, Jim purred, “Come on, Spock. Come on me. I want you to.”

Hand tightening in Jim’s nearly to the point of pain, Spock grunted out his release, the sound so broken, punched out, and lovely that Jim sighed in pleasure. A shaking Spock collapsed on top of him, mindless of the mess between them.

Jim ran his hands over Spock’s shoulders and back, through his hair, over his arms. Through the trembling aftershocks of his orgasm and the inevitable comedown, Jim kept on petting him. Jim’s mind was buzzing, a stupefied emptiness that signalled some very serious confusion to come. But Spock was on top of him, smelling of sweat, dust, and sex, and Jim couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything but that. 

So of course that was when Spock shot up, rolling away from Jim and putting enough distance between them that Jim thought he might cry. 

“Ji-Captain,” Spock croaked, his face very clearly showing emotion - unfortunately, that emotion seemed to be absolute horror. 

Closing his eyes, Jim braced himself for the inevitable consequences of whatever this was that happened. Taking in a deep breath and counting the way he was taught all those years ago, Jim didn’t open his eyes until he felt collected enough. 

When he spoke his tone was fixed in a fairly impressive facade of dry humor. It only sounded a little bitter which was preferable to sounding wholly heartbroken like he feared. “Spock, you just had my dick in your mouth and I’m covered in your semen. I think you can call me Jim.”

Keeping his eyes forward as he leveraged himself up into a sitting position, Jim did his best to ignore the itching at the corner of his eyes, the sudden wateriness that blurred his vision. He felt old, tired, and sore all over.

“Jim,” Spock murmured, desolate voice full of so much regret that Jim doubted anyone else would recognize it as Spock’s - not unless they spent as much time as he did memorizing the other man’s every cadence. “There are no words to express how very sorry I am for my actions. For using you in such a way.”

“What.” Jim’s voice was flat. He blinked. 

Surprise rendering Jim no longer on the verge of tears, he turned to catch Spock’s gaze. Spock denied the eye contact, far more focused on the ground. 

“You’re apologizing to me for giving me probably the universe’s best blow job,” Jim tested out incredulously, “and coming on me when I begged you to? I apologize for the bluntness, but I much prefer that to being killed in ritual combat.”

Spock’s lips thinned, his eyes rising to the level of Jim’s chest. With the ragged remains  of Jim’s shirt sadly clinging to his shoulders, his bare chest and stomach were on full display - the shallow bloody slash and the sticky mess of Spock’s jizz more than a little obvious. In a bout of uncharacteristic shyness, Jim shifted and adjusted his torn pants, doing his best to cover his now flaccid cock. It was a job that Jim’s ravaged pants weren’t particularly up to doing. 

“You are injured by my hand,” Spock stated like he was admitting to planet wide genocide or worse. “And I have taken advantage of you. I shall immediately submit myself for trial.”

“Whoa whoa whoa there.” Hands held out, Jim gawked at Spock. “I’m going to need you to slow way the hell down, Mr. Spock.”

As solemn as a graveyard, Spock bowed his head as if he could offer it to the executioner’s axe right then and there. “I have wronged you greatly.”

“Spock,” Jim spoke slowly and clearly, eyes still wide in disbelief. “I’m fine. This is like a scratch. Bones’ll have me fixed up in no time.”

Clearing his throat, Jim looked off towards the New Vulcan horizon. “As for the, um, other stuff, consider no advantage taken. I was a willing and consenting participant. And it was during a Vulcan ritual. The Federation wouldn’t pry into sensitive cultural matters like this. So...no worries.”

“Captain,” Spock stressed, as anguished as Jim had ever seen him. “I have violated your trust, your friendship, and my duty to you as your first officer. You are well within your rights to-”

Exasperated and worn out mentally, emotionally, and physically, Jim rolled his eyes and interrupted curtly, “As your captain who is well within his rights, I say no worries. Now we just need to get me some clothes, move on, and forget this ever happened.”

Clambering to his feet, Jim stared at his dusty boots and did his best to hold onto his ruined pants. His heart was banging in his chest to a discordant rhythm and Jim wondered how he was going to go on knowing what it was like to have Spock for a moment. Even if it was a hormone crazed version of the man he loved, it was still Spock at the end of the day and now Jim had to go back to being captain and friend. The cracks in his heart were widening and Jim was convinced that one more subtle tap would have the whole thing crumbling to pieces. 

Spock’s voice called out to him, small and melancholic, “There is also the matter of my having forced a mind meld onto you.”

Jim froze. 

He dropped back down to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Thanks to the blissful, Spock-induced orgasm, Jim completely forgot about the fingers pressed to his psi points. 

“Oh my god,” Jim groaned, mortified. “You mind melded me. You know my feelings.”

Spock’s words dripped with remorse and shame. “I can never atone for such actions and I-”

Jim wailed, mind too busy spiralling from panic to take in Spock’s apology. “Shit fuck fucking  _ fuck _ .”

Deep breaths and steady counts weren’t going to help here. 

“Dammit,” Jim ground out, using all his power to pull his fragmented heart together and regain composure. While wearing nothing but rags and covered in his first officer’s come. The first officer who now knew he was in love with him. That first officer. Spock. 

“Ok,” he breathed, mustering up every last bit of competence he could. “My original plan still works. We get cleaned up, find me some clothes that can cover up the bits, forget this ever happened. As far as you’re concerned, Commander, I have absolutely no feelings for you outside of the realm of professionalism and friendship. I will never, ever bring it up. I will be so fucking professional. I’ll take as many sensitivity and harassment courses as you want and you won’t catch the slightest blip of romantic emotion from me from here on out. We can do this. I can do this. It’ll work out.”

Jim was most certainly trying to convince himself. 

“We are also bonded.”

“I think with your logic and my-” Jim’s head snapped towards Spock fast enough to crack his neck. “What?!”

Still looking devastated, Spock sat up straighter and met Jim’s gaze. “During the  _ kal-if-fee _ , your hands touched mine in an attempt to loosen my hold. This opened a telepathic connection. When I perceived your affection for me, I ceased to view you as a threat and instead recognized the bond between us - not yet fully forged, but strong enough for me to detect through my mounting madness. I then declared you to be my-”

Spock hesitated and Jim tensed in concern.

“My  _ t’hy’la _ ,” Spock admitted with a careful expression, as if he was worried about Jim’s reaction. “By declaring our connection before T’Pau, completing the bond during the mind meld, and consummating it physically during  _ pon farr _ , I have bound us in the strongest way known to Vulcans without your permission. The wrongs I have committed against you can never be righted.”

There was too much happening. 

Way too much. 

So Jim focused on the slightly less important stuff. He glanced around the ceremonial area, empty except for them. “Where did everyone go?”

“They left after my declaration,” Spock informed him, the space between his slanted brows furrowing at Jim’s seeming non sequitur. 

“Well,” Jim sighed, slumping down and laying on his back in the dirt where he belonged, “at least your grandmother didn’t watch us getting it on.”

“You are far less...agitated than I would have expected.”

Hysterical laughter escaped from Jim, high and reedy and on just the wrong side of manic. “Oh, Spock. I’m agitated. I’m so royally fucked up over this.”

Laughing some more, Jim stared up at the sky. It was an interesting color, more oranges and reds than Jim had been used to on Earth. “Spock, I don’t know what to do. You know that I’m in love with you and that somehow made you Vulcan marry me. I’m literally moments away from a breakdown.”

The last laugh that left Jim’s mouth was closer to a sob as it scraped at his throat. “And I trashed another shirt.”

Movement sounded at Jim’s side. Spock hovered next to him. 

“Jim…”

“Yeah, Spock?”

“I do not think the shirt is the most important matter.”

“No,” Jim wheezed, turning his head to stare at Spock. He seemed worried. “No, it is not.”

They sat there in silence, Spock looking fidgety. Jim was getting the chance to see all sorts of versions of Spock. 

“If I may,” Spock began, “While you are distraught, you do not seem angry with me.”

“Why would I be?” Jim asked at once. 

“My misconduct has been considerable.”

Waving off the explanation and looking away, Jim shrugged. “I’m not angry with you, I’m...I’m bothered by what happened to you against your will because of the madness of  _ pon farr _ . At the end of the day I’m not angry, certainly not at you, and I guess - I guess I’m just upset because I got everything I wanted but it’s all wrong.”

“Wrong?” Spock’s voice was impossibly small. 

“You didn’t want it,” Jim told the New Vulcan sky. “You were affected by  _ pon farr _ , your mind wasn’t your own, and my feelings got in the way and made you bond yourself to someone who absolutely doesn’t deserve you. I feel pretty shitty over it.”

And suddenly his view of the sky became his view of a very upset looking Spock. 

Jim’s gaze flicked down and  _ Yup _ . That sure was Spock straddling his barely clothed hips.

“What are you-”

Spock shut him up with a kiss. It wasn’t as sexual as the others, this one bashful and questioning in the way a first kiss would be. Spock pulled up and met Jim’s eyes. The guilt ridden expression was replaced by one of determination and nervousness.

“You have misunderstood me,” Spock told him. “In addition to hurting you physically, I  thought I had violated your mental and emotional autonomy, thus breaking the trust and confidence I so valued between us. I assumed that the heinous nature of my actions would surely bring an end to any affection you felt towards me. If that is not the case and you do not hate me for the things I have done, then I can only reiterate my apologies, swear to never again inflict harm upon you, and assure you that even without the influence of  _ pon farr _ , I would choose you. I will always choose you.”

“What?” Jim croaked. He wriggled in an attempt to escape. “What’re you talking about?”

“The bond was not one sided,” Spock told him firmly, his muscular thighs and body weight keeping Jim from squirming away. “Your affections did not spontaneously induce a bond or force a non-existent sentiment into my mind.”

“Spock, you don’t look at me like that,” Jim muttered brokenly, doubt and insecurity squashing the hope Spock’s words inspired.

“That is false. You simply have not observed.” Expression unyielding and eyes once more boring into Jim’s, Spock held out two fingers for a Vulcan kiss. “I cherish thee.”

Trembling like a leaf, Jim returned the gesture. A spark of warm, tender affection jolted through his body. That curl of affection simmered into something much closer to the heated yearning of their mind meld. Spock slid his fingers across Jim’s and Jim let out a pathetic whine at the sensation and the myriad of emotions it brought forth - soft love intermingled with explosive passion and unrelenting respect and wonder.  

“You are mine, should you wish it,” Spock told him with a gaze so intense Jim was convinced it would set him ablaze. “And I am irrevocably yours regardless.”

“That was really romantic, Spock,” Jim managed to say around the lump in his throat. 

“Your answer?” Spock prompted. His voice cracked. Not a lot. Just enough that Jim could decipher Spock’s anxiety as it broke through his resolute expression.

Jim drew him in for a kiss, hands clasping Spock’s between their chests. 

“An affirmative,” Spock mumbled against Jim’s lips, a smile starting in his eyes before extending to his mouth in the most joyful expression Jim had ever seen. 

“A hell yes,” Jim corrected. 

Spock silenced him with another kiss. 

Jim broke the kiss a moment later. 

“Are you ready to go again already?” Jim inquired, delighted and awestruck at once. He arched his body up against Spock’s, adding a bit more friction to the hard cock pressed against his stomach.

“Ah,” Spock gasped. “The effects of  _ pon farr _ and our bonding have yet to reach their peak.” 

Jim grinned. “Awesome.”

 

An indeterminate amount of time later, Jim and Spock stumbled away from the ceremonial area hotter, dustier, sweatier, and far stickier than they began the day. A pile of Vulcan robes sat innocuously at the ceremonial area’s entrance and Jim was almost too grateful for their presence to feel embarrassed by the implications. Almost. 

Before calling the Enterprise for beam up, Jim cleared his throat to get Spock’s attention as if Spock’s focus hadn’t been unwaveringly fixed on him since the declaration of their mutual feelings. “Ok,” Jim started carefully. “Are we going to go on dates now or what?”

Spock’s brow quirked upwards, making Jim’s heart flutter. “Jim, under Vulcan law and therefore acknowledged by Starfleet and Federation guidelines regarding partnerships, we are married.”

“Yeah, but do you want to go on a date with me?” Shuffling in place, Jim looked at Spock from under his lashes, feeling unreasonably shy about the question. 

Spock smiled, slight but breathtakingly genuine. “Yes, Jim.”

Beaming wide and full of anticipatory glee, Jim smacked the side of Spock’s shoulder and raised his communicator. “Just you wait, Mr. Spock, I’m going to woo the hell out of you.”

Spock dipped his head. “I look forward to it, Captain.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Uhura: What's taking the captain and Spock so long? We have that inauguration ceremony to get to and we're cutting it close enough as it is.  
> Sulu: Seriously, what happened down there?  
> Chekov: You've been sitting like zis for hours, Doctor.  
> Bones, pouring himself another drink while staring into the middle distance: Couldn't just listen to T'Pau, could I? Had to make sure Jim wasn't getting murdered by the hobgoblin.  
> Sulu: Leonard?  
> Bones: I saw too much, Sulu. I saw...so much.


End file.
